


He Likes to Smile

by kiafeles



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:51:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiafeles/pseuds/kiafeles
Summary: Phichit thinks about what it means to be in sixth place after the Grand Prix.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just did this little thing ~~because I adore Phichit~~ to challenge myself a bit. Hope you like it!

Phichit likes to smile. He doesn’t let harsh words get to him. They slide off his back and away, slip like skates on ice, until he forgets they were ever thrown at him in the first place. He grins proudly and knows when he’s given his best effort. He takes pride in his accomplishments, and strives to learn from his failures.

 

Mostly, he just stays positive.

 

He’s made it to the Grand Prix. It’s no easy task, he tells himself, being one of the top six skaters in the world. It isn’t easy, trying to make Thailand proud of what he’s achieved. 

 

Nevertheless, he could say he’s making history. It’s heartwarming, and the feeling stirs in his core.

 

He smiles because he is happy, and he knows he _is_  capable of winning. The pressures of competition are there, as always, but they pale in comparison to his enthusiasm. Still, Phichit knows how the pressure can affect people. He saw it with Yuuri last year, the way his friend crumbled beneath the stress and struggle. The pressure builds and builds until you can’t breathe from the weight of it, until you are left to harbor its mass, seemingly alone. 

 

Phichit smiles through the pressure, because it makes him feel better. If he acts happy, he will be happy. The strategy, implemented like a particularly grueling training regimen, has worked for him so far.

 

Plus, it’s not like he _dislikes_  the world of skating. He loves it, and he wants to spread the sport to his country, to the world, and to all the young people like him who stumble upon the activity and simply wish to let go, to enjoy themselves in a round, chilly rink.

 

But he still wants to win. He wouldn’t be trying so hard if he were simply in it for fun.

 

So losing the Grand Prix stings, just a bit. He knows he may have a disadvantage against JJ, what with his fiery appeal, or Chris with his seniority, or Yuri Plisetsky with his youth and spirit. Even Otabek Altin and Yuuri are fierce competitors, simultaneously driven with their own unique strands of hidden power. 

 

Phichit has frequently pondered what he brings to this competition, as an individual. When he finds a way to enunciate it, he channels it into his skating. He’s bright, and majestic, and warm. He’s honest, and he wants to show the world, through abstract movements of blades on ice, that there is so much to the happiness that performing for others gives him.

 

In this way, he tries to imbue himself to his skating. He grasps onto little details about him that make him who he is.

 

Phichit Chulanont likes hamsters and cheesy tourist attractions and his friends, spends perhaps a bit too much of his time on social media, and always remains open to opportunity. He’s skated to songs he’s dreamt about for years, and he knows how to put his own spin on each melody. 

 

So while he may not be standing on a podium, grasping a medal, he knows he’s made a mark. He’s performed a personal best, and can only go up from here.

 

Phichit has practiced his dream programs with a vibrant dedication, spent hours and hours perfecting each movement, pouring his heart into every gesture and expression. The harsh realities of training and competition cannot steal that from him. His love for the sport, and for those whom he can share his happiness with, win out.

 

Even so.

 

He cries in his hotel room, alone, after the competition. Ciao Ciao comes to check up on him once, but he turns his coach away.

 

As social as he is, as friendly and warm and bright as he presents himself, he knows he needs this time, alone, to sort himself out. It is a time when smiling doesn’t cut it. A time when the tears are necessary.

 

So he cries and cries and then wipes away the tears and stares at the slightly smudged mirror in the hotel room. He tentatively pulls the corners of his mouth up with soft finger tips, until the only indication of his previous turmoil is the slight redness of his eyes and the latent moisture on his cheeks. 

 

He’ll be all right. There’s always next year. He has a long career ahead of him, and he can do better. Skate better. Be better.

 

He pats his cheeks dry one last time, cleans his face up a bit more, and breathes. Grasping his phone in one hand, he opens the hotel room balcony and steps outside. Gazing into his camera, he waves a peace sign and winks. The picture that comes out sports his signature smile, highlighted by orange sunlight and framed with wispy strands of his hair.

 

Posting this picture online is as much documentation as it is a pastime, after all.

 

Uploading the photo is second nature. He writes a little message as a caption and, satisfied with his work, unleashes the photo into the void of the internet.

 

Later, when he hears a knock mere moments after he’s wrestled himself into formal wear, he opens the door to his room expecting Ciao Ciao, and is surprised to find Yuuri. The man is dressed in a suit and sporting a wistful grin, one that is explained as soon as Viktor pops up beside him.

 

Yuuri regards Phichit with warmth borne of casually cultivated familiarity, and Viktor regards him with less intimacy, but equal parts kindness.

 

Phichit’s on ice rivalry with these men is a part of their relationship, but it does not dominate it. As he follows them out of the hotel, he easily falls in step beside Yuuri, fitting into his friend’s side like a puzzle piece.

 

They talk of casual things. Viktor and Phichit take turns teasing Yuuri, and it’s only when Viktor peals off to speak with Chris in the lobby that Yuuri drifts to one wall, bringing Phichit with him.

 

“You okay?” Yuuri asks, eyebrows drawn and expression tinged with the slightest glow of anxiety.

 

Phichit knows Yuuri. They were roommates after all, have trained together, fought together, and grown together. They became family while separated from their blood and home countries. They’re competitors, working hard to outdo each other, but they are friends, sworn to support the other through loneliness and hardship. 

 

So of course, instead of celebrating his own incredible, silver achievement, Yuuri wishes to establish Phichit’s well-being.

 

But Phichit is over it. He likes to think he is, at least, because thinking this way is the first step forward. He’s proud of his achievements and reflective on his failures. He’s growing, stretching, throwing his arms out to reach up, his legs down and out to carry him to victory.

 

So he answers, “I’m great!”

 

Yuuri seems unconvinced, so Phichit pulls him into a long hug. When they break apart, Yuuri’s eyes are slightly wet. Phichit would be lying if he said his don’t look the same. 

 

Phichit sniffs once then, sports a cheeky grin, and sets off.

 

“Now, since the wedding is cancelled—”

 

“ _Phichit!_ ”

 

“Okay, delayed a year, I understand. Since it’s delayed a year, that only gives me more time to plan it.”

 

Yuuri looks at him, half flushed with embarrassment and half relieved at his friend’s playfulness.

 

“You’re gonna have the best wedding ever,” Phichit affirms. Images of suits, white cakes, and blue roses dance in his head, slotted beside dreams of entertaining a roaring crowd in hamster hats and bouncy dresses. They’re happy thoughts, aching to see the light of day, and Phichit adores them.

 

Because while he may not have a gold medal, he will keep doing what he’s always done. Whether he’s on the ice or planning a wedding makes no difference.

 

Phichit likes to smile, so he’ll smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on the tweet tweet [@kiafeles](https://twitter.com/kiafeles)


End file.
